#fridayflash~In God We Trust

In God We Trust

We departed Rawalpindi early that cool morning, driving towards Murree in the north-eastern corner of Pakistan. The hills and valleys of the single-lane highway snaked through the western Himalayan foothills and made for slow progress. A pall of smoke hung over one region—the result of burning to cover up the large-scale timber theft occurring in these temperate forests.

We arrived in Murree at noon and went our separate ways seeking adventures within the busy mountain village. Christmas was only a week away and I wanted to find unique gifts for my travelling companions. And a decent cup of coffee.

The local market was packed with vendors selling a wide range of goods. They waved to me, calling me to drink their chai or perhaps sample a falafel. Booths selling fine fabrics were next to others peddling questionable looking vegetables. I peeked through the grimy glass of one shop window. Cheap trinkets and plastic prayer beads were proudly displayed on a dusty cloth; not a single thing I would want to give to my friends as Christmas presents.

Most of the men wore round pakol hats and had shawls wrapped around themselves to fend off the lingering morning chill. They wandered through the market, hands clasped behind their backs, thoughtfully examining the goods for sale. Occasionally there was shouting as they haggled over price. The few women in sight had their heads covered with hijab but the more traditional wore the body covering burkha.

Several children ran to me with dirty hands extended. “Baksheesh, Baba,” they shouted in unison, pantomiming eating by pinching the air and drawing their fingers to their mouths. As I had done in many countries previously, I ignored the beggars and continued my trek down the busy street.

The cluttered commercial district eventually evolved into haphazardly stacked tenement-style buildings. A man leaned over a balcony rail and eyed me suspiciously while smoking his cigarette. I proceeded down a hill and stopped at a school whose courtyard was about 20 feet below me. Orderly rows of children, dressed smartly in their blue uniforms, stood at attention. They began to sing melodically and march in unison. Their song, presumably, was in Urdu but every so often the word ‘Pakistan’ rang out and I assumed it was their national anthem.

“Sahib.” The soft voice came from behind me, accompanied by a gentle tug on the arm of my Columbia jacket. I spun around to find an old man looking up at me expectantly. A wool shawl was draped over his narrow shoulders and his ears stuck out from the red checked scarf that covered his head. His almond eyes were sunken into his face; his cheeks and forehead had deep wrinkles that reminded me of folding, geologic strata. Most noticeable, though, was that he carried a large sack of belongings over his shoulder and the bottom of his grey beard looked like it had been dipped in red henna.

“Baksheesh, Sahib,” he repeated and pantomimed the eating gesture the children had demonstrated earlier.

“Sorry, pal,” I said, shaking of my head. “I don’t give money to beggars.” I turned and began to walk away.

“Allah.” He said softly, his voice breaking. I stopped. I slowly walked back to the old man and dropped a few rupee coins into his outstretched hand. He smiled at me, exposing his tooth. I quickly turned and made my way back to the market in search of my gifts.

I've often wondered if the old man was pleading to God—or if he was calling to me.

* Note: Photo credit to J.E. Kirkebo

Reality Check

I just thought that I would shift gears away from NaNo for this post. I hope that it's not too much of a downer. And I warn you that this may again fall into that elusive 'probably of no interest to anyone but Alan' category. But I will jump up on my soapbox again...

I notice in the news yesterday that the 133rd Canadian soldier to be killed in Afghanistan arrived home yesterday. I think that it's really nice that the government offices here still lower the flags to half-mast in remembrance. That may be what has got me on this line of thought today. I donated my bit of money and picked up my poppy yesterday. Remembrance/Veteran's Day is only 9 days away...

I also read in the news today that another suicide bomber attacked a bank in Rawalpindi, Pakistan. It's believed that 35 died there. This follows the attack on October 28 in Peshawar, Pakistan where about 100 died. And the 6 who died in Islamabad on October 20. The article mentioned the last large scale attack in Pakistan was in October 20007 in Karachi when Islamic militants killed about 135 people. I think, though, that in North America and perhaps Europe they would be referred to as Domestic Terrorists. I think, also, what has caught my attention is that I travelled through all of those places back in the fall of 1990.

I don't doubt that there have been hundreds of news stories and blogs on these occurrences debating the issue of whether or not our military should be over there. I think that debate should be left to greater minds than I...

I've probably brought it up on my blog before, or perhaps on the blogs of others, that I was in Pakistan for three weeks back in 1990 as part of an overland trek from London, England to Kathmandu, Nepal (16 weeks in total). It was a wonderful time and I would highly recommend that sort of travel to anybody (as long as you like riding in the back of an old Bedford truck and camping every night). I will attach a few photos below to give you some views of Pakistan in more peaceful, happier times.

At the Rohtas Fort, about 16km NW of Jhelum, Pakistan.

The Shah Faisal Mosque in Islamabad, Pakistan can accommodate 300,000 worshipers

Market along the main street in Murree, Pakistan (one of the locations in the book "A Thousand Splendid Suns," by Khaled Hosseini)

Along the Grand Trunk Road en route to Peshawar, Pakistan.

A little girl in the Jhelum Market. Her father motioned to me while we were driving slowly through the market and wanted me to take her photo. So I did.